


A morning in the life of Hades, lord of the dead

by DarkShadeless



Series: The Age of Dad [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Gen, Heroes and Villains AU, Magic, Shenanigans, Supernatural Elements, the life and times of Max
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 23:02:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18214838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Breakfast. The most important meal of the day.





	A morning in the life of Hades, lord of the dead

**Author's Note:**

> He's a disaster and I love him.

 

_One of seven chosen people, I have been given the power to call on the dead and make them do my bidding. The realm of spirits is never more than a snap of my fingers way. The witch fires of the borderlands burn in my soul and dance to my will._

_I am the creeping chill of the grave._

_I am terror incarnate._

_I am..._

* * *

“- late for school, dad!”

Amanda’s screech jolts Max out of his reverie. That’s all it takes. As always he can _feel_ it happening just before a lick of blue flame dances over his hand, not that that helps any.

The scrambled eggs that are so close to perfect go from ‘almost done’ to ‘on fire’ faster than he can blink. “Maker damn it! Shit!”

With the reflexes of a seasoned veteran, Max dumps the entire pan into the sink and cranks the tap. A cloud of smoke and steam billows up to fill the kitchen.

That’s the scene his darling daughter skids in on on socked feet. Her eyes catch on the smouldering pile of charcoal. “… really? Again?”

So much for breakfast.

 

* * *

 

_Hades._

_Having the questionable honor of carrying that name comes with a few downsides._

_As you already know, I get bothered by spirits quite a lot._

_I don’t get holidays, there’s no dental plan and the retirement benefits are paid out when you bite the dust. This part-time job sure is a drag._

_On the upside, I don’t really have to do much of anything, so maybe it’s less of an occupation and more of an aesthetic._

* * *

  

Amanda ends up grabbing some un-toasted toast slathered hastily with PB&J and barrels out the door like a miniature hurricane, leaving chaos in her wake. With a sigh, Max sinks onto one of their kitchen chairs and buries his face in his hands.

“I’m the world’s worst dad.” Eighteen years and still… “Cerberus, **_why_**?”

Over his shoulder a circle of small, azure blue flames bursts into existence in response to his lamentations. One of them grows until it’s roughly the size of a pomegranate. (Yeah, they measured that. It’s a little eerie, really.)

Before the hellion can make to plaster themselves to him like an apologetic cat, Max grabs them out the air with both hands. “You! How often have I told you, not the breakfast!” He pinches their ‘cheeks’ and pulls on them until their flame-shaped manifestation distends. They make a ghostly sound of protest.

“Not the breakfast, Cerberus!”

 

* * *

  

_This little nuisance is my familiar. Ever since we retired and discovered cooking in an attempt to feed our family they’ve fancied themselves something of a budding gourmet chef._

_Spoiler alert: They’re not._

_Consequently, so am I._

* * *

  

Max lets them go. The blue flames snap back to their original shape with force, sending Cerberus careening through the kitchen like a spinning top gone wild.  

“I don’t care if you want to experiment later but I can’t order in in the morning! Amanda needs to be at school on time!”

His familiar face-plants against the fridge and slides to the floor, the dramatic little shit. Max has never found out if they can actually get dizzy. Truth be told, he’s not even certain of what Cerberus really is. They aren’t fire, that’s for sure, even if that is their preferred form.

Well, the form they prefer when he isn’t using his spiritual energy to manifest them as their namesake: A gigantic three-headed dog made entirely of the same blue flames that will be the reason he’ll have to call the fire department before the month is out or have his house burn down after a kitchen related accident.

 _Again_.

“I swear to- I swear! I- you-“ Max runs out of steam with a huff. There’s only so many times you can get upset about the same thing before resignation sets in. “Just make some coffee for Andraste’s sake.”

Small mercies they never get _that_ wrong.

The proposed activity inspires a miraculous revival. Cerberus zooms up from the floor with a chirp, a phoenix reborn from ashes, and dives straight into Max’ coffee machine. An ominous blue glow limns its worn lines. With a howl fit for a dying soul it starts to chug through a production cycle like a chain-smoker running a marathon.

One of these days his poor coffee maker will collapse under whatever unholy thing Cerberus does to it when they do this. One of these days.

Max ignores the spectacle with practiced ease and goes digging through the freezer for some waffles. If he puts them in the toaster oven before the little demon spawn is done he might even get some breakfast today after all.

 


End file.
